Tears of Leyden (17 page)

I beg God for him to let Nadeje go free…to
make
him let Nadeje go free.

“In any circumstances I do not fancy Spanish men, and despite the knowledge that he is secured by my men, he cannot be freed without being treated for his illegal engagements. Penance is certain, for he must be the demonstration to teach our Spanish fleets not to waver the Monarch’s own blood again.”

My world shatters around me. I try to say words of protest but my head is not fast enough.

“Punish him.”

My eyes flash to Nadeje who is still guarded by a few men. My insides quake with terror as one of them draws something from his belt. I grow faint and my head spins. The man’s hand positions itself at Nadeje’s side. I can’t see it. I jerk and nearly fall as the men behind me snatch me back.

“Do not...hmmm.” Sir Marren seems to have noticed my discomfort and sounds unsure. “Labor…” He murmurs as though contemplating. “In sympathy of Ms. Orange, let us not punish him in this manner before her. He will be useful though, and may perhaps contribute to our plans. He, of course, may be disciplined, and will perform whatever labor is given. There will be further discerning of his future by my master, but for now, we may gift him with this exception, although he may be treated with anything,
when
away from her presence.”

The pain worsens yet I am able to release some fear for him, postpone my anticipation for another time, but I know a catch holds to my heart at their possible deception. I feel my pulse beating harshly.

“He
may
be let free if he makes it through his confinement as our service.”

I feel a sense of protection fill me. Even if I had to go with my vader, whoever this man was, I would stay close to Nadeje…or try.
If he made it through…
I weaken.
How could I stop it?

“Secure him. Let us go, bring Ms. Orange and do not use weaponry on her. Keep him here and don’t let him be seen until I have returned, hide away if we complete it before this happens. Come.”

I feel the men behind me secure my body and my heart wavers as I realize they have full control over him, over me, and that they were taking me to leave him alone with them. I force down the struggle as they begin to move to the command. I can’t let them.
No…Nadeje…he had to of had a plan.
They move me. I try to fight it, I lean for Nadeje but their pull is too strong for my shaky effort.

“Leave him be…” I whisper it, unable to get out more without breaking down.

I want to scream, to hit, to kick, but I can’t stand the thought that every wrong move made would be weighed on his side of the torment, especially when I am gone from his side. One hauls me forcefully around the waist and Nadeje grows rigid.

They begin to guide me towards the egress. I am weak as they move me. I am made to turn away from Nadeje and the other men. My chest feels like it is full of thick air, something impossible to breathe yet it sustains me. It aches, and though I wish to relieve it, I know I cannot. We are a fair distance away from the spot when I hear it.

There is the sound of metal clattering to the floor and a force hitting a hard surface. I feel my throat tighten at the thought of what it had come from. I try not the let it win me, but my body seems adamant. I cannot go on. I freeze. My guards urge me forward, apparently unconcerned by my stop, but I will not move on my own. They force me, but still I listen, begging and imploring it not to be that they have…

I am jolted to a stop as there is a third sound. I whirl. Nadeje is kneeling on both knees at the men’s feet. I catch the glimmer of metal in the man’s hand and I know what he intends to do. I lose all sanity. I race forward.

“Nadeje!” My cry fills the square.

No answer meets it.

The guards retain me, wakened by my unexpected jerk.

“Nadeje?” The question sounds amused. “This is what he is called…surely there must be a Mr. addressing? Interesting how you call him such.”

I grow rigid in my lean. I had said his improper name.

“Sadly, there is not time for chastisement. We must go. Secure
Nadeje
as he is called, and try not to kill him.”

The men obey. They pull him to his feet. They do not, however, sheath their blades.

I feel the men begin to draw me back. My heart pounds. The men with Nadeje undoubtedly will hurt him. I won’t let him. I wrench forward, losing all logic.

“Leave him be! Don’t hurt him…please! Let him go, no…Don’t make him pay! No…stop…let him go! Let him go free! Sir Marren, please! He didn’t do anything…NO!” I sob out as hands jerk me back. I fight it. “No! Nadeje! No! Let him go! Let him go please…I’ll do anything…just leave him alone…”

One alerted soldier catches me to his chest and his hands clasp my mouth, muffling my sound even as I scream. I try to pull away but his arm straps me to him. I wrench at him and reach out between his hold desperate to win, but it is no use. I am taken.

I keep screaming as they draw me back. I reach for him and yell, begging, but I am unheard. I am too weak to be felt and too unimportant to be truly seen for what I need. I elbow back a little and my keeper hauls at me warningly. I see Nadeje’s gaze grow severe upon the man behind me. This only stimulates me to continue.

I kick out and feel my holder cringe. His grip relaxes and I almost rip free, but I am grabbed by others who turn me away and drag me on. I scream out but soon they force on a piece of cloth and my sound is only half of what it was before. Tears drip down my cheeks, and now that I am captured I can hardly feel anything but their cold path down my cheeks. I am broken as we exit the egress. I feel my heart being torn.

I try to turn back.
Nadeje. They would hurt him. God, they will injure him.
I push and reach but know it is futile. I twist but collapse as my effort is diminished. I break down. I am as useless as a hurt mule, stubborn too, and they realize it as I do. They scoop me up. I tremble as they take me in. I am silent as they wind through different streets towards the destination they wish to make. I recognize nothing of my home as they carry me forward. I shake all over. I remember the Hanging Gallows and think of Nadeje being…I scream aloud.

They wouldn’t…no…they couldn’t be so cruel…but I know they can.

Suddenly, the men stop, pausing briefly then scattering to make space for the approaching figure which is blurred by my tears.
Sir Marren.
He looks at me with what seems to be pity, as though I am a young girl who learnt something contrary to the truth and is merely throwing a fit about it, but I doubt he has pity inside him for even a little girl. I resent it as he comes closer, wanting to pull back and away from his rotten being.

“We must perform here, let me teach you what you must be taught and you will have easy work tonight.”

I want to vomit. I feel sick. I don’t want ease or want to give help to them. I don’t stir.

“Ms. Orange, we are in need of your pact…allow us a night of your time and you will be let free.”

My throat tightens and heart falters with anger and pain. I know he will do no such thing
…and even if so…what of Nadeje?

He watches me a moment then speaks. “Untie her mouth. She is quieted now.”

A follower finds the cloth and much too gently pulls it from my mouth. I look away from the direction of the man to show him I have no interest in his treatment of me.

“Ms. Orange, let me.”

A bare hand comes into my view and I know his meaning. I cannot make myself do it; hold the hand of the man who could so malignantly kill another. When I do not move to his welcoming, he takes the matter into his own hands. He firmly grips one of my wrists and draws me to him. “Come,” he says starkly, then he raises his tone. “Stand back but make sure no one is close to this place.” He firmly grips me and leads as the men take order around us.

We walk only a few steps when once more, he speaks. “I have been directed to bring you to my shop, where you will remain until your vader arrives,” he is steady. I am not. “And then to bring you to greet him at the close of battle, as well as bring you to the safety of his ship.”

I feel sick. First to lose a moeder and darling sister, then my Nadeje, now I am a treasure sent to be held by my own vader
. My vader would never do this…my vader would never make assumptions…
but then he didn’t. He knew of my imprisonment.
He wouldn’t make me leave something I need…
but he didn’t. He left that for his men to do.

Sir Marren glances at the sky. “It is late, but we have time, short, but enough, if you would take responsibility.”

I feel anger make my heart beat faster.
Take responsibility?

“There are many paths: one down the market, one through the east square, and one through the alleys, all towards the west, which is our destination. You will be travelling alone, but we will be close by, so don’t get any ideas of running. It is only meant for anyone out this late not to become suspicious.”

I am lost as my throat tightens.

“Which would you prefer to take?”

My head hurts and legs feel like wood. After a few moments of my silence, he turns to me.

“Lyra, I beg you to be amenable to us.”

I feel his grip harden and cannot help but weaken as tears rise. He is restraining me; stopping me from running away and making me want to run.

“You are the last blood relation to your vader. Do you understand me? Losing you would mean he would need to bear another heir, or that the city could come under control of another if he did not have someone to follow in his path of seizing it.”

I cannot understand what he is saying, my intellect has been distinguished.

“Lyra, look at me.”

My eyes are blurred with tears and I cannot find the strength to raise my face to him. He sees this. Suddenly, his hand finds my chin and he harshly lifts my face for me to meet his gaze. I cannot breathe as he stares at me like I am to blame, as though I am being threatened now. His eyes hold a fire, a hollow flickering flame of emptiness that he fills with bitterness. Finally, he drops my face.

“I recommend the east square path. It is quieter and lacks guards…you should be safer if traveling quickly.”

I do not look at him; no force could make me look a demon such as him in the eyes.

“You work with us tonight, and I give you my word that you will be let free.”

By some blessing of nature, my heart strengthens. “But not Nadeje?” I strike back weakly.

His voice is undeniably unamused. “I cannot let him go.”

My heart is splintered. “Why can you not?”

He stands steadily. “It would be treason. He is in the wrong.”

I look up. “Release him and I will go willingly.” My heart is hammering.

He is undaunted. “You will go either way.”

My head hurts. “Sir Marren.”

He watches me.

“I am afraid then that I cannot help you.”

It takes a moment, but his expression grows heated. “Lyra, every life, every household, every Dutchman here depends on you.”

“And I depend on him.” My voice is raised and firm.

He watches me. “Follow my directions.” There is a dark spark in his eyes and I see the hollow fire grow in the cold pupils. He hauls me after him back towards the men.

I don’t know what this means as a response to my strength, but all I can do is hope.

“We will take the east way,” he informs. “I trust you to know your stations and keep Ms. Orange safe. I also trust she knows the path. For her lack of knowledge could be our ruin.” He waits a few moments, as though to see if any of his man would object. “Am I clarified?”

I swallow hard. “Please.”

He pauses, then turns back to his men. “Mr. Bakesh, go back and receive information of our Spaniard. If he is reasonably unharmed get some words out of him…make it clear to his securement that they are not permitted to hurt him further.”

There is a moment of silence before a man separates from the group and strides off in another direction.

Sir Marren turns back to me. “He will be still worked, but I will relieve him of some pain from my officers for now.”

This was not what I had hoped for, but it is better than nothing. It begins to rain harder now, not only a drizzle.

“We must go…” He turns and draws me in the direction of our starting point. “Spread!” The bark sends his men striding. “Lyra,” he says it firmly.

I am forced to look at him.

“If you rely on him, he now relies entirely on you. Do as you are bidden, and he will remain unharmed.”

I look him in the eyes. “Promise me.”

He looks displeased now. “If he is not already dead, I will consider.”

My stomach churns.
Not already dead?
I swallow. “Sir Marren I cannot without your word…”

His eyes narrow. “Then I promise that he is dead to me.”

I watch him suddenly fearful.
No.
I am shaking in the legs. He continues to stare me down and I know he means me to do as he says whether I do it willingly or not. I put my trust in God. I step forward in my path.